


Slivers of Lead: All Are There, Forever Falling

by pints (MegCapet)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegCapet/pseuds/pints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deleted scene from Slivers of Lead: Wherever Your Rosy Devil May Roam, so while this one could be read alone, you should really read that epic first. </p><p>More adventures with Sandro the Incubus and Zlatan the demon businessman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with LJ user roadtoharmony in late 2008. A big Thank You to LJ User calzamante for betaing.

Zlatan Ibrahimovic had been alive for a very long time. And for most of that time, he had been very good at avoiding demon hunters and the lesser demons that often chased after them. It was tough. Occasionally there would be a particularly sensitive psychic who would come looking for him. Sometimes the blanket of supernatural protection his presence brought to a place would drag out a number of less powerful creatures -- poltergeist, youthful vampires, a ghoul or two -- and he would then be forced to scare them off himself, not trusting a human to do the job right. 

This sums up fairly nicely why Zlatan cringed a little when he walked back into his main office to find Sandro, Paolo Maldini's incubus lover, perched on his desk, twirling a knife in his free hand while he scribbled little notes on Zlatan's calendar.

"I'm going to be working, Sandro," the older demon said with a good deal of purpose. "I'm not going to be able to babysit you, so if Paolo thinks --"

"I don't need a babysitter, Zlatan," Sandro said, rolling his eyes. "I just thought I'd bring by copies of Andrea's research on that Rui Costa character we couldn't get a hold of. Andrea, once again, is amazing." Sandro grumbled the last bit and tossed Zlatan the file. "Either way, we don't want him actually shipping any of those supplies, so if you could get on it?"

Zlatan glared but nodded. "Top of my list, Sandro. You tell Paolo that. Make SURE he knows."

Sandro flashed another cocky smile, Zlatan feeling a little stirring in his stomach. The older demon turned away quickly, not wanting any part in the incubus's tricks. "I'll be in my OFFICE, Hernan. You watch him. Don't let him touch anything. I have a very good idea of where what has been."

Sandro hopped off the desk and ran a hand along Zlatan's bookshelf, making sure to touch each of the books, tossing his knife in the air and catching it just behind him as he walked along.

Hernan watched him carefully, his expression more curious than determined. "Yes, Master."

Zlatan, confident in his minion's abilities, slipped into his office, flashing his dark eyes at Sandro once more for some added effect. 

As soon as the lock clicked in Zlatan's more private office, Hernan's eyes brightened, his smile wide as he practically skipped over to Sandro. "How do you do that?"

"What? Make even Zlatan a little bit hard?"

Luis, Zlatan's psychic and lover, walked into the room at just the wrong moment and looked as though someone had just stabbed him. "What?"

Sandro sighed dramatically. "It's not my FAULT. It's just that I'm so irresistible that -"

"No," Hernan said, shaking his head. "Those tricks. With your knife. I'm fair enough with a sword, but... would you ever consider giving some lessons?"

Sandro's eyes drifted down over Hernan's body, not failing to notice how very tight Zlatan's required uniform was for his demon minions, "For you... maybe."

Luis shook his head and crossed the room, flopping down into a couch and losing himself in some new papers that had just gone through that morning. The last week had been more hectic than Luis had ever imagined. The death of Gianluca Zambrotta had sent shock-waves through the businessworld. It didn't help that the mysterious millionaire had left a very sizable chunk of his fortunes to one Lionel Messi, a clerk boy who had risen quickly through the ranks.

Little did the public realize that Lionel Messi was no simple clerk boy. In fact, there was nothing simple about Leo, period. His psychic abilities weren't quite a match to Luis's, but they were formidable and growing every day with practice and focus. And then there was his relationship with Gianluca... the details were cloudy, but Luis had been kept awake far too many nights this week, his head pounding with desperate psychic cries to a lost lover. Leo's voice never sounded as pathetically boyish as it did in his dreams, when his Gian was ripped from him again and again and again. Luis had cried for him. Luis had cried for Leo a lot. 

"So what exactly ARE your powers, Hernan? Because there is this one thing that I can do involving my tongue," Sandro smiled. "But it calls for some pretty quick reflexes. Think you can handle it?"

Luis peeked over the folder to watch Hernan dash across the room, grab a soda from the refrigerator and deposit it in Sandro's hand within the blink of an eye. "Messenger."

"A fallen one?"

Hernan shrugged. "Are you going to show me the trick or not?"

"I think your master wouldn't be amused if I cut one of his precious men. Let's start with something simpler. Watch."

Sandro sat down the can of soda on a table nearby and made a great show of pulling out a second knife before handing it to Hernan. The incubus then tossed his own knife up in the air and caught it between his fingers, proceeding to twirl the blade through them so fast not even Hernan's eyes could follow, the knife seemingly suspended in air above the other demon's palm.

Sandro stopped and nonchalantly pocketed the blade again. "Now it's your turn."

Hernan coughed a little embarrassed and then tried it, managing well enough with the throwing and catching, but mismatching the timing so the blade clattered to the ground. 

"Well, not everyone's born with it, I guess." Sandro picked up the knife and handed it over again to Hernan who did look back rather sheepishly, something that didn't escape Luis' notice either. The psychic decided that this might be a little more interesting than the papers resting in his lap.

"Oh fine, I'll show you again," Sandro smirked, quite pleased with the outcome, and repeated his routine, much slower this time so Hernan's next try actually looked like he might not end up stabbing himself in the process.

"The trick is to keep your eyes fixed on the handle. See?" With that Sandro started to flip the blade over the back of his hand, somehow managing to hold on to it and switch it to his other hand in the matter of milliseconds. "Works well in fights, too. Come on, challenge me." 

"What?"

"Challenge me. You'll never learn if you don't practice in working conditions, so… challenge me. I promise I'll be gentle." 

Sandro's cocky smirk was all the encouragement Hernan needed, so within seconds both demons were circling each other - and Luis was now focusing completely on how each waited for the other to make a move. If he were honest, Luis was even more transfixed by the little tricks Sandro would throw in now and then to lead Hernan on, every movement calculated and graceful.

The door opened just as Hernan lunged for Sandro, and all Zlatan could see was Nesta blocking Hernan's blow just before a fizzing sound cut through the now very quiet room.

"What THE HELL is going ON here?!" Zlatan all but yelled, his eyes going to Luis for explanations. The demon was anything but amused when he saw the blush creeping up his lover's face as Luis was still focused on the incubus across the room.

"I was just telling our friend Hernan about how to defend himself. Might come in handy some day, you know. You might want to consider taking this up into your demons' training." 

Hernan was shuffling his feet, looking very, very uncomfortable in his skin as Sandro walked over to the table and pulled his hunting knife out of the can of soda that had been fixed to the wood underneath.

"Ooops, I am terribly sorry, Zlatan." Sandro's grin was anything but apologetic.

"That was a $4,500 table from France, 1867, Nesta," Zlatan growled, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side, the thought of the very irritated demon hunter who would turn up on his doorstep if anything happened to Sandro being the only thing stopping Zlatan from tossing the incubus out of the window.

"So what, ours was a $300 door, made in the US of A in 1998. I'd say we are even." Sandro shrugged and grabbed the folder Zlatan was holding. "I take it these are your notes on our Costa research? Excellent. If you'll excuse me, I told Paolo I'd bring back lunch. It's time I left. Oh, and Hernan? I can see some promise there, we should definitely have another lesson soon." 

Waving the folder in a sort of goodbye, Sandro winked at Hernan and Luis and then left without another word.

"HERNAN," Zlatan bellowed and glared at his minion who was suddenly looking like a schoolboy rather than a battle-hardened demon. "This will be docked from your pay, and now clean up that fucking mess!"

Zlatan turned on his heel and made for the quiet and safety and most importantly sanity of his own office, not even stopping when Luis called after him.

+

Luis purred softly as he nuzzled into Zlatan's chest, the demon having found that perfect spot to massage gentle circles into Luis's back. "That's nice."

Zlatan smiled slightly when Luis's lips met his skin, drifting sleepily along as they prepared for bed. "Sleep, then. I'll be here. You don't have to be afraid."

"I know," Luis whispered back. "But this last week has been very... hard. You know. Maybe you don't, but it'd be nice if you tried to understand. What I saw..."

The demon swallowed hard and pulled Luis harder against him. "I would never let them hurt --"

"Can we PLEASE talk about something else?" Luis said suddenly, his voice losing its usual calm, making Zlatan nod quickly, though his tight hold on Luis didn't fade.

Zlatan licked his lips and stared up at the ceiling. "I almost like having a little back up in the city, you know. Paolo and Andrea and..."

Luis looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Sandro?"

"Do you like him?" Zlatan asked, trying to sound innocent. "I mean, what do you think of the little imp?"

Luis rolled his eyes. "He's not an imp. And yes, I do like him. I... see a lot of myself in him, though I'm not sure what part of him is sending such signals."

Zlatan grumbled something about knowing exactly which part, interrupted by Luis's last minute addition of "Oh and he's a fabulous knife fighter, if you didn't notice. Simply amazing." Zlatan glared at everything in the room except Luis. 

Luis sat up slowly and looked down at his lover. "Are you alright, Zlatan? You seem... confused. Lost to me." Luis reached out a hand to touch Zlatan's face. "Let me in. Let me see."

Zlatan shook Luis' caress away, though it felt so wrong to deny Luis anything. "Not tonight."

Luis nodded. "Zlatan, you know I'd never look inside your mind unless you let me. You know I love you too much for that. I just want to help. I just want to know you."

Zlatan took Luis's hand in his and held it carefully. "You know me. You know me better than anyone ever has. And I promise. There's nothing wrong."

Luis smiled, and slid back under Zlatan's arm as though he had never left, a sneaky hand slipping towards the elastic band of Zlatan's boxer's. Zlatan hissed a little as Luis's chilly fingers made their move. 

It was just after the brush of Luis's long lashes against his chest and in the instant before he came that Zlatan formulated his plan. A silky laugh bubbled up behind his moan and his psychic lover beamed. "That good, huh?"

Zlatan's head fell back against his pillow. "You have no idea."

+

"You're going to get fat if you keep eating all that," Cristiano said, pointing at Sandro's junk food stash before the demon could get in the door.

Sandro cocked an eyebrow at the Portuguese. "You've known me long enough. Have you ever seen me so much as gain an ounce?"

Cristiano crossed his arms and leaned forward a bit, as though trying to get a closer look at Sandro's thighs. "No. But one day, you're going to wake up and look like Adriano or (he shuddered here) the other Ronaldo, and you know it."

The incubus finally got the key in the lock and pushed the door open. "Hey! Now, that's just not fair. Adriano has really got it under control lately."

Cristiano rolled his eyes. "Please. If you call that 'under control'. I know my Ruud wouldn't touch that."

"Umm... Adriano isn't seventeen with an awkward accent and bad teeth?"

The Portuguese glared down at the bags Sandro was carrying and nodded. "Fat. You're going to get SO FAT."

Sandro rolled his eyes and tried to remember if he'd taped the latest "As the World Turns" and, if he had, what of Paolo's he had taped over. 

Stepping into their shared apartment, the incubus was just about to say that Paolo would never believe what just happened when he found himself in the same predicament. His jaw closed without an actual sound having left his mouth.

Zlatan had Paolo pressed against a wall, and from the noises coming from the demon hunter, he really rather liked it. Not that the hands desperately clawing at Zlatan's shirt, trying to get underneath, weren't a sure sign already. Or well, the fact that they both probably hadn't breathed in the last three minutes, their lips locked together as they both fought the other for dominance.

"Yeah, I figured you'd like that," Zlatan smirked as he pulled away from their kiss, his eyes flashing darkly as he pushed a leg between Paolo's and then leaned down to bite the tender skin just below Paolo's jaw. "I'll do so much more to you that I know you will like..."

"Excuse me?! What the FUCK do you THINK you are DOING, Ibrahimovic?! Get the fuck away from him!"

The other demon didn't even as much as turn to acknowledge Sandro. Instead, he made a amused sound in the back of his throat and let his right hand wander down Paolo's chest, coming to rest just over his groin, the demon hunter bucking up into him, trying to create some friction.

Sandro had dropped the bags he'd been holding and took two steps forward, but stopped when Paolo's eyes locked with his, a little smirk playing at his lips.

"You more than anyone should know that this is no big deal, Sandro. It's just--" Paolo didn't even manage to finish his sentence as Zlatan started nipping a little trail down his throat, making the demon hunter groan long and deep as he opened up his neck to the demon, his hands now having found their way into Zlatan's back pockets to pull him closer still.

Sandro couldn't even move. It seemed to take enough energy to blink, and that was by far the only thing he was capable of until the next of Paolo's moans (moans only he had the right to, the sort of moans he was sure only he elicited from Paolo) could be heard.

The incubus couldn't even remember turning and rushing from the room, but suddenly he found himself out of their apartment again, his back pressed against the front door, his heart beating heavily against his ribcage, so it was obvious that he must have done just that.

"But... he's mine... This cannot, he cannot..."

Sandro tried to get his breathing back to normal by one of the techniques he had seen on TV once - breathe deeply, hold it in and count to three, exhale. 

"It's just sex, Sandro. Remember. Just sex. Harmless. Just... fun. ... Sex. Definitely not spectacular sex either. Just... sex."

It seemed to work. Except it didn't.

Sandro nearly took the door off its hinges as he stormed inside again. Zlatan was sadly fucking mistaken if he thought he could come barging into their home and --

The living room was empty, nothing was out of the ordinary. Sandro couldn't even hear a thing. Somehow the realisation that they must have taken it to their, their, Paolo's and Sandro's, bedroom made the incubus want to throw up. 

Nevertheless, Sandro walked to the bedroom door purposefully and pushed it open, already going over the hundreds of things he'd do to Zlatan before he tossed him down the stairs.

There was no Zlatan. Just Paolo. Asleep. Looking almost dead to the world with his head half buried under pillows, his hair sticking out at odd angles and a snore escaping him now and then. The book he appeared to have been reading was one of Andrea's on Historical Maps, Sandro could see that, and it was precariously balanced on the edge of the bed where it seemed to defy gravity.

The incubus approached the bed and started poking Paolo. Hard. 

"Paolo Maldini, what the HELL were you thinking?! YOU OWE ME AT LEAST A FUCKING EXPLANATION. So I am not good enough for you or what?! COULDN'T YOU FIND OTHER BIG-NOSED, ARROGANT BASTARDS OUT THERE?! DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?!"

While Paolo had been successful in avoiding being pulled from his sleep by the fingers stabbing into his side, it was decidedly more difficult to ignore the growing volume of Sandro's voice which seemed to have gone up three octaves, too. 

That didn't mean the demon hunter was in any sort of condition to listen though.

"... What?"

"OH, now DO NOT give me THAT! I SAW YOU. YOU AND HIM, AND... YOU HAVE TO KNOW THAT I AM A HUNDRED TIMES BETTER THAN HIS EVERY ATTEMPT AT ANYTHING!"

"... WHAT?!" Paolo had pushed himself up on his elbows now, trying to keep up with this wildly gesticulating lover and failing miserably. "Listen, Sandro. I have no idea what you are talking about, NONE whatsoever." 

"You KNOW!! AND AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU!!"

Paolo reached up and grabbed Sandro's hand. "Please, just stop yelling. I can't even..."

"Don't TOUCH me after you put your hands on HIM OH GOOD GOD!" Sandro screamed, pulling it away and holding his hand to his chest to protect it from the Zlatan germs he knew were now crawling all over his lover. "OF ALL THE PEOPLE... DEMONS IN THE CITY!!"

Paolo sat up completely and shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sandro. Are you drunk?"

"Am I DRUNK?!" Sandro's eyes were saucers, forgetting the germs as he leaned forward to slap Paolo's cheek. Unfortunately for him, the demon hunter was almost expecting it and grabbed his lover's hand before it could hit him, pulling him against the edge of the bed. The demon's knees gave out and he slumped down onto the mattress, losing his momentum as he fell.

"Sandro? Are you okay?"

Sandro's lips parted but he had already wasted all his words for the night. Instead, he just looked at Paolo and shrugged.

Paolo leaned in and kissed the tip of Sandro's nose. "I've been right here. No one's here except Andrea. I promise."

"But I saw him," Sandro whispered, pressing his forehead against Paolo's. "I'm not..."

"You probably just ate a bad Cheeto," Paolo laughed, lifting Sandro's chin with a careful finger. "You should know that I couldn't... wouldn't do that to you."

Sandro pushed forward and captured Paolo's lips in his. "Promise?"

"I already did," Paolo pointed out, lifting the blankets to invite Sandro underneath.

The incubus tried to find some insincerity in Paolo's eyes, but finding none could only whisper. "I know what I saw, Paolo. I know what I saw."

The demon hunter nodded as Sandro kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his jeans, crawling between the sheets and laying his head nervously on his lover's chest. "Sandro. Sandro, just sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Sandro half-nodded, tonguing gently at a scar in middle of Paolo's chest from a fight long ago. 

Paolo cocked an eyebrow, brushing Sandro's hair away to get a better look. "Are you hungry?"

The incubus shook his head, but kept kissing and licking at Paolo's chest, the demon inside of him aching for a taste of his lover. When Sandro finally looked up at Paolo, the demon hunter could see the shimmering tears in his lover's eyes. 

Paolo snaked a hand up under Sandro's shirt, scratching his back gently. "Sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

Sandro tried to smile, worried that it turned out more pathetic than grateful and snuggled down into Paolo's embrace. "I love you, Paolo Maldini."

Paolo nodded and wrapped his arms tighter around the incubus, scared for him and needing him close at the same time. Sandro's body relaxed slowly against him, only shivering once more ("Goddamn, Paolo, your feet are cold!"). Paolo stared at the ceiling for an hour before he figured it would be alright for him to sleep, kissing Sandro's forehead and whispering an old Latin prayer before drifting back into his dreams.

+

Sandro sighed dramatically as the first rays of sunlight snuck into the room through a crack in the curtains. The incubus hadn't slept well and, being a demon, he had never been too fond of direct sunlight first thing in the morning. He groaned loudly and rolled over, intending to bury his face back into Paolo's warm chest, but... something was just not right. Paolo's breathing had increased. 

Sandro sat up and rubbed his eyes. And then promptly proceeded to scream in disgust and anger and general unhappiness.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?"

Paolo's hand was buried in Zlatan's hair, pushing the demon further down on his hard and leaking cock, begging Zlatan for it, begging in that same perfect voice that Sandro loved. Zlatan slipped off the head and began to nibble down Paolo's shaft, a hand slipping up next to him and pushing against the tight hole of Paolo's ass. The demon hunter arched up to give Zlatan more room, his mouth falling open in something between a moan and a growl, as the demon's fingers pressed inside, searching for that one spot...

Sandro's eyes flamed a deep red and he kicked Zlatan as hard as he could. "YOU DISGUSTING BASTARD!"

He was just about to jump down from the bed and attack the fucker when he peeked over and saw nothing but Paolo, tangled up in his blankets, rubbing his head as he reached for the gun he kept just under the bed and aiming it at nothing in particular, "Wha... WHAT?!"

Sandro's breath caught in his throat. "Paolo?"

"What did you... what is happening? Are we being robbed?!"

Sandro shook his head. "No. No, we're fine. I just..."

Paolo stood up and wobbled at little from the shock. "Why are you so... you look angry."

"Are you feeling a little... hard, Paolo?"

The demon hunter looked down and patted his boxer's, yawning as he did. "No?"

The incubus stood up and headed for the kitchen, looking very determined, Paolo scurrying after him, still not entirely sure what had just happened.

"Zlatan, it's fucking Zlatan, that evil bastard, he and that psychic boy of his and he is trying to FUCK with me," Sandro muttered under this breath.

Paolo yawned again. "Did we have a meeting with Zlatan this morning? I love him in the morning. He always orders those amazing breakfasts. Even Andrea can't cook that well."

Sandro glared very hard at his lover, muttered something about a "useless bastard" and stuffed a leftover biscuit into his mouth as he started searching for a pair of pants. 

Paolo didn't quite catch that or just decided to pay no mind to his lover this very moment. "So we do have a meeting with Zlatan? Oh, great then. Let me get my cl --"

"No. And NO." Sandro struggled into his shirt and pulled it down with an annoyed huff before he rummaged around for his shoes. "I'm taking the car."

Sandro hopped out of the door on one leg, still trying to put on his left shoe. Paolo, who couldn't find his keys and therefore chose not to follow him in shorts only, could do nothing but stare after him as Sandro nearly fell down the stairs in his haste to get out of the house.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing that it was barely 6.30am yet and that Sandro had broken every other traffic regulation known to man, the incubus arrived at Zlatan's in just over fifteen minutes. He barely remembered to lock the car before he stormed to the backdoor and began pounding at it until it swung upon. Hernan's face went from surprise to alarm when Sandro pushed past him.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

"My master didn't knew you were coming, and it's too early for vis--"

"I don't care whether he's ready to receive visitors," Sandro all but grumbled and shoved at the door that would lead him into Zlatan's private office.

"You fucking bastard."

Zlatan rolled his eyes and slowly closed the file he'd been flipping through, tossing it the messy piles of papers, bits and pieces that littered his desk. "Always a pleasure to see you in the more, Sandro. But if you wouldn't mind keeping it down a bit? My Luis is sleeping. Like normal people."

Sandro glared hard at the other demon, trying to ignore Zlatan's amazing body, on perfect display in low-slung pajamas bottoms, his hair just messy enough to be sexy without looking out of place. "You did this on purpose."

"Did what?" Zlatan shrugged, picking up a water bottle and lifting it seductively to his lips.

Sandro's instincts kicked in and the incubus sniffed at the air to get a taste for Zlatan's ... intentions, before shaking his head violently and trying to glare even harder. "If you so much as spill a drop of that on yourself, I will kill you."

Zlatan laughed, silky and smug. Sandro did not. This was NOT FUNNY.

"What the FUCK is wrong with you? I don't know if you know this, but some things are just not --"

"I have no idea what you're raving about, Alessandro, and you would do well to speak to me in a more... respectful tone," Zlatan started, standing up and taking a carefully measured step toward Sandro. The incubus felt Zlatan's power in his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck jumping up like a cat. 

"What did you do this time, Master?" Luis's small voice came are the corner, the boy's eyes all puffy from sleep.

Sandro pointed straight at the more powerful demon. "Your boyfriend is trying to ruin my life!"

"Please. I don't have time for that sort of thing," Zlatan said, looking at Luis for backup. "Plus, with the way you treat YOUR boyfriend, I don't think you need any help ruining anything. Didn't he almost kick you out recently?"

"ZLATAN!" Luis said, slapping the demon's arm. "That's just mean."

Zlatan flinched away, though Sandro knew better than to imagine that tiny slap had even stung. 

"You DID do it and I know you did," Sandro said, trying not to get emotional. "What the hell did I ever do to you that I don't do to everyone else?"

Luis blushed all the way down his neck and poked Zlatan's shoulder. "Your eyes are all sparkling."

"AND?" Zlatan said nervously.

"Your eyes always sparkle when you're plotting evilly," Luis said with a shrug and a quick glance at Sandro. 

Sandro took a powerful step towards Zlatan and cocked an eyebrow. "Was there something you forgot to admit to, Zlatan?"

The other demon bit his lip as though weighing his options before shrugging slightly. "I might have messed with your mind... but only a little bit. I don't have the most developed psychic sense, hence my needing Luis. You saw what you wanted to see, Sandro. I just sort of... pushed it along."

"Now that's just a lie!" Sandro said, crossing his arms, before shaking his head and turning on his heel to storm out of the room. 

Luis gave Zlatan a nervous glance before rushing off behind him, laying a very light hand on Sandro's shoulder. "Sandro? SANDRO? Don't listen to him, please. Please, won't you sit with me for a little bit? Just a little bit? Tell me what happened, what he did, what you saw?"

"Don't you already know?!"

Luis blinked, eyes large and innocent. "I'd rather you tell me yourself. I won't dig for it. I... respect you more than that."

"What if I don't want to tell you, huh? What then?" 

"Then you don't have to tell me," Luis said, quiet and gentle. "But I don't want you to leave like this. Sandro, just sit with me? I can... I can listen if nothing else."

The part of Sandro that had always been in control for the last few millennia sneered and told him to turn around and leave Zlatan and Luis to their dirty little pool, but the part that had fallen head over heels in love with his Paolo told him to stay, and that was the part Sandro choose to listen to.

The incubus nodded and followed Luis as the smaller man tucked on his sleeve and dragged him into a smallish room next to the main office. Sandro was pretty sure he shouldn't be so annoyed at the fact that even the fucking tea kitchen was perfectly decorated and very much "Zlatan reigns here".

Luis had sat down a cup of coffee in front of the incubus without him noticing, and Sandro didn't become aware of it until the psychic asked him again whether he wanted sugar or milk. Sandro waved him off and gulped down half of his still scalding hot coffee.

"What desire should I have to watch Zlatan fuck Paolo?!" Sandro didn't pay attention to the way Luis flinched. "I might be an incubus, but that doesn't mean I have to be a masochistic pervert on top of that."

Luis sat down the sugar shaker and gently touched Sandro's hand. "So this is what you saw? Zlatan and… Paolo?"

"Yes."

When Sandro didn't say anything else for the next two minutes, Luis felt the need to prod a little bit.

"Sandro?"

"And I don't know what the fuck is wrong with your boyfriend to suggest that this is what I wanted to see! And what the fuck was he thinking, messing with my head like that?! So what, he's powerful and maybe quite good-looking if you are into his sort and don't mind the arrogant, pretentious attitude and so, fine, he has a few dozen demons that do his every wish - that does not mean Paolo would choose him over me! And why the fuck am I even discussing this with you, of ALL people?!"

Sandro had gone over to gesticulating wildly and now that he had ran out of steam, he slumped lower in his chair and crossed his arms before his chest, looking for all his years like a boy who had just had his world shattered by being told the truth about Santa.

"I think you are telling me because you trust me to understand."

Sandro didn't like the small, gentle smile on Luis's face, not because it was unkind, just because he was aware that Luis was right, and he didn't like being read like that, especially not when he couldn't bring up psychic powers as an excuse for it.

"He's the first good thing that happened in my life, Luis. The first good thing that is here to stay. I won't let anyone take this from me."

"And you think that'd be so easy to take away from you? You think Paolo holds you in such little regard that he'd take his first chance to get rid of you?"

"No. Yes. … Maybe." Sandro sighed and kicked the leg of the table. "Well, let's just put it that way - it wouldn't surprise me if he changed his mind at some point. I'm not exactly easy to handle at times. Even I can see this. That doesn't make the thought more bearable though."

Luis watched the incubus slump even lower in his seat and waited for him to make eye contact. "Maybe that's already your answer as to why you saw what you did. I'm sure you don't want to hear that, but maybe Zlatan was… sort of right. You saw what you wanted to see."

Sandro huffed angrily and wanted to point out that Luis didn't need to add insult to injury, but the boy's next words cut him off.

"You think he will leave you, and that thought's unbearable to you, not only because you are sure it's always the incubus who should do the leaving. You are looking for excuses, Sandro. Some sort of excuse not to be in love with Paolo, because… Well, I imagine the concept of love is a bit awkward for one of your kind."

Sandro glared hard at Luis and sat up straighter. "Fine then, what do you propose? What the fuck should I be doing, Freud?"

The incubus's tone was less harsh than the words might have suggested, and Luis needed a moment to process it all. "You're asking me for advice...? Aren't you, like, THE expert in matters of sex and attraction and all that?"

Sandro rolled his eyes. "Well, we already sat down to discuss my fucked-up love life. I might as well gain something out of this, and… well, this is different."

Luis nodded for Sandro to continue, and the incubus looked down into his cup and began to fiddle with it in a rather uncharacteristic show of demureness.

"This isn't just… sex. I don't want it to be just sex anymore, it's been quite a long time since this was all I wanted from Paolo…"

"You said you were an incubus, right?"

Sandro growled and looked up sharply. "Are you going to be helpful now or not?!"

"I'm sorry, it's just… Wow. This is like the ULTIMATE midlife crisis."

"… I'm immortal."

"Well," Luis started again, giggling. "I guess we know when the world ends then."

"If that's your idea of a joke, you're really not funny. Not at all," Sandro said, slouching lower into his seat. "I just... sometimes, when I think about him and all of this... Luis, I just want you and Zlatan have. I want him. Forever. Just tell me how to get to THAT."

Luis nodded, reaching over to take the incubus's hand. "Sandro, there isn't a magic recipe for this. It's not something that happens overnight. Zlatan and I... have been through a lot together. And now, I couldn't imagine living a single day without him."

"And that's how I feel about --"

Luis held up a finger to quiet the demon, smiling gently. "I know. And I know something else, Sandro. I know that Paolo loves you. So much. Think about it, incubus. He's invited you into his home. You share his bed. You share his friends. He kicked you out that once, but he went looking for you. Sandro. I shouldn't have to tell you that Paolo Maldini cares for you. Deeply and completely. Sandro, tell him. Talk to him. And I'll talk to Zlatan about all this... messing with your head business."

Sandro shivered under Luis's careful hand, wanting to pull away, "You think he loves me?"

"I don't know," Luis shrugged unconvincingly. "Or rather, I know that you need to know for yourself before I tell you anything."

"Right," Sandro said with a nod, unsure of how exactly a conversation like this was supposed to end. Should he pay the little psychic for his services? Sandro bit his lip.

Luis giggled, Sandro's confusion tickling in his mind, and squeezed the other man's hand tightly. "And if you some pointers, just... think really really hard and I'll try to feed you some lines."

The incubus threw his head back in a thick, warm laugh and stood up to go. "Seriously, you're so fucking creepy."

"I try," Luis joked, letting Sandro out the door and watching him walk back to the car. The psychic's smile faded slowly as Sandro drove away, Luis turning around and heading back into Zlatan's office with a few questions of his own.

+

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Luis said, struggling to keep a very serious face as he slipped into Zlatan's bedroom. Of course, the demon looked nothing short of spectacular laid out on their bed, with those same pajama bottoms only just hanging from his hips, reading the newspaper with that same sarcastic grin he always had when dealing with humans.

"I asked you a question, Zlatan!"

Zlatan folded his newspaper closed and looked at the psychic with a laugh. "Just having a bit of fun. I mean, did you see his face?"

"Zlatan? I know that's not your idea of fun."

"Well, I thought it might be fun to experiment with a new hobby, you know?"

"No, I don't know," Luis said, drawing his mouth into a very severe line. "Zlatan, tell me the truth. Why would you hurt him like that?"

Zlatan's smirk fell into a frown, and he tossed his newspaper angrily to the side, his eyes flickering the deep green of his demon form. "The way you looked at him. I could tell you wanted him. I could tell, I don't need psychic powers for that."

Luis's lip parted nervously, the boy taking a step forward and sitting just on the edge of the bed. "Zlatan. I would never..."

"And he looked at you," Zlatan said. "He looked at you with hunger in his eyes. And there is only one thing an incubus is hungry for."

Luis shook his head and crawled up to his lover, straddling him and pressing kisses to his cheeks. "Please. Zlatan, don't even dare think that I would. He's an incubus? I'm human. Some attraction is only natural."

Zlatan glared at him, hissing something foreign but very rude sounding before attempting to shrug his lover off. "I'm not in the mood for this."

But Luis didn't let him, pushing the demon against the pillows hard and forcing their lips together, using just enough tongue and moaning (God, moaning) against him and Zlatan couldn't. Luis broke their kiss and looked hard at his lover. "I'm human, Zlatan. There's a difference between love and sex. And I sort of love you. And..."

"Wait, say that again," Zlatan said, placing a finger over Luis's perfect lips, trying to catch his breath.

"Zlatan Ibrahimovic," Luis whispered, pitching his voice low and seductive. "I, Luis Jimenez, am madly, unbelievably, almost stupidly in love with you."

"And Sandro?" 

"Not. Interested." Luis grinned, letting his lips brush against Zlatan's.

Zlatan grinned and lifted himself up against Luis, letting the other man feel him growing harder through his pajamas.

"I though you were angry with me," Luis giggled.

Zlatan shrugged. "We could have had angry sex. I've told you before, my pet: sex is the answer to most everything."

Luis blushed, hiding his face in Zlatan's neck, nibbling at that soft spot that made his demon lover purr. "Zlatan. I want to be yours. All yours. Every part of me."

"That sounds promising." Zlatan laughed, shifting his hips to give him more control, rolling them over to switch positions, his Luis now pinned to the bed. Luis bit his lip, slipping his hands down Zlatan's long body to untie those troubling bottoms. Zlatan, meanwhile, busied himself trying to get Luis's t-shirt over his head without breaking that hauntingly deep eye contact they had fallen into. 

"Zlatan," Luis whimpered as his shirt disappeared, Zlatan's tongue (and teeth) going to work on the boy's nipples, "Inside. I want to feel you..."

Zlatan smirked, pleased with himself for turning his slightly annoyed lover into this desperate, begging creature in only a matter of minutes, taking as much of the credit for this development as he possibly could. His long fingers trailed down Luis's body, tracing each muscle, each sharp line and beautiful angle, until he was kissing along the hem of Luis's boxer shorts, letting the damp tip of the boy's cock hit him in the chin through the thin fabric. 

"Zla-TAN, please," Luis started, his eyes fluttering closed as Zlatan dragged the elastic band of those shorts over Luis's arousal slowly, achingly so. "Zlatan. Don't make me beg for it?"

The demon flicked his tongue over the head like kitten with milk, making small, satisfied noises as he went. Luis shivered underneath him, melting slowly against Zlatan's tongue. Zlatan knew this, could feel his lover relaxing deeper into him with every flick of his tongue. Finally, Luis, unable to stand it any longer, pushed his hips up, fucking Zlatan's mouth in several sudden, aching thrusts. 

"Inside," he whispered again, his breathing growing heavier, more needy with each moment. "Zlatan."

The older man moaned in response, licking his fingers decadently before pressing them against the tense muscle of his lover's hole. Luis nodded, smiling as he did, pushing against him as much as was possible.

"I should get the --"

"No," Luis insisted, squeezing his eyes shut. "No, I don't need it. Please. Not this time. I don't --" 

Zlatan's throat went dry. Something inside him shivered at the very thought of his boy taking him this way, unprepped and raw and aching for it, but he had never hurt his boy and he imagined blood and animal groans.

"Zlatan, do it... please," Luis said, his fingernails digging into Zlatan's back, so hard and deep that a human man might have whimpered in pain. Zlatan, not a human man, found his cock twitching with delight as he felt the soft skin of this body he'd taken tear just slightly under those hands. 

Zlatan swallowed as Luis began to tremble for want of it, spitting into his hand for what it was worth before pushing two fingers deep into his lover. Luis arched up against him, Zlatan's fingers spreading him open, searching for the spot that would make those pretty lips moan for him. 

"More," Luis managed between aching gasps, his eyes opening to reveal the deep, soul-stirring black of his inner, searching eyes, the ones that saw into people and beyond people.

The demon trembled - terrified and turned on by this effect he had on his pet. He crooked his fingers, stroking at the boy's prostate until Luis's legs were wrapped around him, shaking just slightly. 

"More," Luis begged again, pulling Zlatan to him, those eyes open and searching for him. 

Zlatan nodded, pulling his fingers out slowly, scissoring him open as far as he could, still a little more than nervous at the lack of preparation that had taken place. But Luis wasn't going to wait and Zlatan wasn't going to miss this. No, he refused. Not when his boy was this... willing, desperate, aching to please and be pleasured. 

Zlatan slipped up his body, pushing the head of his leaking cock against Luis's entrance. "Luis..."

Those dark eyes stared back at him, shimmering with desire. "Zlatan."

"I'll hurt you," Zlatan said, his body telling him to just do it, take him, enjoy him.

Luis smiled, that boyish grin so out of place next to those burning, supernatural eyes. "You can't. You can't hurt me anymore. Not anymore. Not like this."

Zlatan nodded, pushing their lips together as he pressed inside, swallowing up a painful groan from the young man with a shuddering gasp of his own, feeling his boy around him. Luis threw his head back against the pillows, his lips quivering, his legs wrapping tighter around Zlatan to pull him closer.

"Inside," Luis whispered once Zlatan had found his rhythm, fucking Luis deep and slow. Luis took Zlatan's face in his hands and brought their faces so close that Zlatan could taste Luis's lips. "Let me inside."

"What? Luis, fuck."

"Let me inside," Luis begged against, his eyes searching Zlatan's face, a thin tear of blood escaping. "I want to feel you. All of you."

Zlatan's breath caught in his throat as he realized what Luis was asking and he shook his head. "No. I can't. You can't."

"I need..."

"No," Zlatan insisted, feeling his orgasm coming closer. "No, Luis. Please don't ask me this, not now."

Luis's grip tightened, dragging his tongue along the side of Zlatan's face. "I need you. Inside."

Zlatan pushed hard into his lover, his breathing erratic and inhuman, every part of him in love with this boy underneath him. "You won't like what you see."

"I love you. I want to love all of you," Luis said with a voice that wasn't his own, deeper and darker and ringing with something that wasn't quite human, something Zlatan had never heard before. "Let go."

Zlatan gasped, shuddering as his orgasm caught up with him, losing himself deep inside Luis. Luis kept his lover's face near his, their eyes meeting at just that moment. Everything went very still for a second, as Luis took a sudden breath and felt Zlatan (all of Zlatan) rushing into him. Every memory, every emotion, every feeling of a thousand years and more, rushing into him like rivers, filling him up, drowning him in power and the ages and a sudden, pressing thought that drifted and permeated every last fiber of Zlatan as they came together. And he saw Zlatan. Not the human Zlatan he had fallen in love with, but the creature that lived inside him, the creature, the demon that... loved him. 

Zlatan felt Luis tightened around him, the boy's eyes losing their darkness and fading back into the deep rich brown that had captured Zlatan from the first. He shuddered out a heavy orgasm, shaking violently in Zlatan's arms, the demon worrying for a second that he had hurt him, really hurt him. Then it faded, as suddenly as it came, Luis opening his eyes and smiling. 

"You love me," Luis said with his first breath. 

Zlatan rolled over on the bed, his mind feeling numb, his body quivering. "Why was that a question?"

"No," Luis said, turning over to cuddle under his lover's arm. "You're IN love with me."

"Is that what you saw? In all that?" Zlatan said, swallowing hard to regain some control.

Luis kissed Zlatan's chest softly. "It was all I needed to see."

"Nothing else?"

Luis sat up as much as he could, most of him still shaking with the energy of the dual orgasms he had felt through their momentary psychic connection, and looked at his lover. "Whatever I saw... nothing could make me need you less."

"Need me?"

"Need you," Luis insisted, laying back down and trying to relax, "Only you. Don't forget that. Never forget that ..."

\--

As Sandro stood in front of their door, he could already hear Paolo moving restlessly to and fro inside the flat. The incubus had barely put the key in the lock when the door was pulled open. He nearly fell flat on his face, right at Paolo's feet. Even as he was struggling to keep his balance, Sandro found the thought of such a penitent pose quite ridiculously appropriate, seeing how he had left and more importantly, what had made him leave and why.

"SANDRO. Where the fuck have you been?! You've been gone for -- Oh God, what happened?" The last question sounded more defeated than worried. Paolo eyed the box of expensive chocolates his lover clutched in his hands. Sandro had bought them because his extensive knowledge in that area had told him chocolates almost always worked when wooing someone, so he might as well try it with Paolo now, too.

"It's the car, isn't it?" Paolo sighed and quietly shut the door before pulling Sandro into the kitchen and sitting him down at the table. "Where is it, and how many pieces of it will I have to pick up?"

"It's not the car, Paolo! I... " Sandro tried alerting Paolo to what was wrong by pointing vaguely at his lover and himself, but then figured this wasn't going to cut it, so he got up and pulled Paolo into him, kissing him long and hard, feeling his lover slowly melt against him.

The incubus pulled back and then kissed Paolo again, much slower and gentler this time. 

"Paolo Maldini, it's about damn time we go out on our first real date, and believe me, you don't want to fight me on this."


End file.
